


one way or another (i'm gonna get ya)

by wickedlittleoz



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Boys Being Silly, Established Relationship, M/M, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, it's funny I promise, maybe? - Freeform, yall know the drill I'm the worst with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlittleoz/pseuds/wickedlittleoz
Summary: Steve and Billy both find themselves attracted to a complete stranger and make a game of who can bring him home.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested to me on Tumblr as something light and funny, and as it always does with me, it got completely out of hand. Chapter 2 features the smut section, so if it isn't your cuppa tea, you can just skip it.

It had been an uneventful day at the café. Rain was pouring heavy and relentless outside, and only very few people had dared to face the thick curtain of fat drops and come inside. Those who had barely kept him occupied, only ordering refills from time to time to fight the cold.

Billy had come early with him. Helped set up shop and eaten some from the first batch of croissants and coffee. Kissed Steve in the storage room, long and calm, with lips of milk chocolate and butter. Left to work in the Camaro, wheels singing on the wet pavement, leaving behind a flushed Steve.

Gabi had laughed, as she did every morning, when he flipped the open sign and went back inside, smile still too wide – and refusing to shrink. "He really is something else, isn't he?" She'd asked and if Steve didn't know her so well, he'd get jealous. Instead, he just nodded, tied his apron around his waist, and sighed like a school girl in love. _Yeah, he is._

Their thing had happened almost accidentally. Steve and Billy had quarreled through all of highschool, like magnets: constantly pulled towards each other, but clashing with the force of it. It wasn't until prom night, wandering about the school alone, that Steve saw his "foe" with other eyes.

He had gone alone, which, if you'd met Steve in his freshman year, you wouldn't have believed. But girls had all switched their interests to Billy when he rolled into town, fresh out of California beaches.

What Steve didn't know was that Billy too, despite all his adventures under nearly every girl in highschool's skirts, had gone solo to prom. When he found him in the gym, tux, dress shirt and shoes forgotten by the seats, shooting balls at unprotected hoops by himself (and scoring every time), Steve couldn't have fathomed that the night would end with Billy's head between his legs.

Tossing his tux, shoes and tie aside, he offered to play with him. Billy's eyes gleamed in that dangerous way it often did when he was trying to get a rise out of Steve: mischievous and obscure intentions, that more often than not made something itch under his skin, though he refused to admit.

Billy always played skin. Naturally, Steve kept his shirt on. The warm weather of May had him soaking wet in minutes, though, white shirt sticking to his skin and practically see-through. He had to ignore the way Billy stared, tonguing at his lips like the maniac with an oral fixation he was.

It was Billy, though, who grabbed at him when Steve held the ball for too long and put his foot out when he managed to steal it. It was Steve, though, who stuck his arm to stop him. And then they were both on their backs on the floor, breathless and laughing, ball long forgotten.

A little too giddy (from both his dad's whiskey and Billy's presence), Steve turned to look at him, but laugh died in his throat when he saw a hint of red on his forehead. He rushed Billy to the locker room, except that instead of cleaning the cut on a sink like a normal person, Billy shrugged off his suit pants. Found a showerhead that worked and simply stood under the spray of cold water. Naked.

True, they had showered together countless times after practice. But never alone, never just the two of them. Steve had never noticed the way Billy's firm muscles gleamed under the shitty lights of the public school. Had never noticed the way his long hair created little streams of water over his shoulders, chest and back. Had never noticed how relaxed his face became and the goose bumps that raised on his tanned skin.

He wasn't gonna make a move, though. Most likely he was going to excuse himself, leave and go straight home, touch himself until he passed out from coming too hard too many times on a row.

Only then Billy's icy blue eyes were planted on him, then he was licking his lips and tugging at his own semihard dick. And Steve would be the dumbest fuck in the whole country if he turned Billy Hargrove down.

After that they had fucked like rabbits through all of summer, and when it was time to get a move on with their lives, both of them realized they wanted to move on _together_. They packed their shit in the back of the Camaro and peeled out of Hawkins, middle fingers out and proud at that town full of homophobes and closeted cases.

That had been two years ago. Now settled in Santa Monica, life was better than Steve could’ve ever imagined, growing up with parents who wanted him to marry some nice little girl and take over the family business. When he thought about it, he felt downright disgusted.

His mind flowed back to the present when the bell dinged, indicating that someone had come in. Steve peeled his eyes from his little notepad, where he’d been scribbling absentmindedly, and looked up at the stranger.

And strange indeed. He was tall, limbs long and thin, curved into himself as he fought with an umbrella, getting rainwater everywhere. When he looked up, an apology in his eyes and – by the looks of it – at the tip of his tongue, Steve caught his eye from behind the curtain of wet hair.

Strange, but also beautiful.

Steve was struck breathless for a moment, until he heard Gabi’s voice. She was calling for him and when he looked her way, she stared at him, wide eyes and pursed lips, expectantly.  It took him a moment, but then Steve was settling back into reality, nodding at her before rushing to the staff room and grabbing a mop and a bucket.

“Here,” he said softly, pushing the bucket at the guy. He had managed to close the umbrella, but the damage had already been done; there was water everywhere, mostly onto himself, as if he hadn’t even been using an umbrella at all. He dumped it into the bucket almost angrily.

“Thanks,” he muttered when Steve offered his little cloth. It didn’t do much, but it was a good excuse to hide, for a few moments, the blush on his cheeks – which Steve did _not_ notice and find endearing.

He focused on mopping the floor and barely noticed when the guy left, probably headed to the men’s room.

It had been a while since the last time Steve had felt so drawn to a complete stranger. Last time he’d been at the beach with Billy and this guy had caught his eye. He turned out to be Billy’s friend, actually, and then Steve kind of figured that he’d caught his attention because he was pretty much Billy’s same type – blonde and built like a brick house, and also a surfer.

Not this one, though. This one was slim and very obviously the kind of person that hated attention – dressed head to toe in dark and plain fabrics. Bowl cuts had been out of fashion probably since the beginning of mankind, but on him it didn’t look so bad. His face was angular, cheekbones sharp enough to cut.

Basically, the complete opposite of Billy. And yet.

Steve decided it was best to just forget it. Dude was probably going to just get some coffee and never show up at the shop again – and honestly it would be best if he did so, because either way Steve had a fucking _boyfriend_ and he did _not_ need to get Billy upset.

Except that the guy lingered. First, reading some books, then newspaper. Then, writing endlessly on a journal, those thick with clipped papers and even some photographs. He looked like a fucking _noir_ detective and it was _weird_ , but it also made Steve all the more interested.

“What the fuck was that?” Gabi asked in an angered whisper, coming around the counter to get someone’s change.

“What?” Steve blinked.

“Dude comes in, gets the whole shop _flooded_ and you just stand there? Watching?” There was a dangerous edge of irritation on her voice and Steve sighed, because she _had_ a point.

“Sorry, I was distracted.” He touched her shoulder gently. “Won’t happen again. Promise.”

She just mouthed _good_ before going around the counter to finish up on a table. After the couple left and she picked up their dishes, she came back around to find Steve mixing the weird guy’s latte.

“D’you know him?” She asked, softer now, and Steve was relieved.

“No,” he said honestly, brows furrowed with concentration.

She hesitated. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Steve looked at her. “Why?”

“Figured you did.” Gabi shrugged. “The way you’ve been staring. You’re not discreet, you know?”

He did know. Billy had said it a thousand times.

Steve just shrugged and turned his back to her, with the excuse of arranging his tray. In fact he was blushing.

It wasn’t until after lunch that the man left. Steve felt himself breathe freely after, like he’d been keeping taut and tense at his presence. Because whenever Steve’s eyes searched for him – and they did inevitably, on their own accord, thirsty for a glimpse of those sharp lines –, he was staring back. And Steve _wasn’t_ flirting, that would be stupid. But he could... Appreciate the view.

He didn’t mention a thing to Billy, though, not when he came to pick him up at the end of the day, not while they ate leftover lasagna, not even when Billy keened and whimpered under the strength of his thrusts and said _fuck baby, you were really inspired tonight_.

The next day, the guy didn’t show up. Nor the next. And then Steve forgot.

A whole week went by. It was Gabi’s birthday and Steve and Billy had planned a surprise, so they were late that morning from picking up a cake a few blocks over. When they walked in through the front door, a good number of tables had already been taken, but mostly by their usual customers, who joined into their chorus of _Happy Birthday to You_ excitedly.

Steve didn’t notice him until a while later, after they’d cut the cake. Everyone got a free slice and Steve actually froze on his tracks when he walked up to the furthest occupied table to find the weird man with the sharpest cheekbones in California.

He smiled a secret thing, taking the dish from Steve’s hands, then his eyes drifted over to somewhere above Steve’s shoulder and he turned away. When Steve looked, Billy’s eyes were locked on the man, face blank and unreadable.

“Who’s Kurt Cobain over there?” Billy asked when Steve went behind the counter, where he stood eating cake.

“Dunno,” Steve shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. “It’s like. The second time he shows up.”

Billy hummed, his eyed practiced on his plate. He stabbed the cake and the plastic fork split its tiny teeth. Steve sighed, taking his hands.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, something bitter in his mouth.

“Nothing.” Billy shook his blonde mane of hair, licked his lips. Chuckled a little. “Dude hasn’t stopped checking you out since we arrived.”

Steve blushed, like, you could fry eggs on his cheeks. He let go of Billy’s hands when he made to throw his cake out and took the chance to look over his shoulder. The guy turned his head away when their eyes met.

“He’s fucking cute, too,” Billy went on, begrudgingly. “Like _that_ helps.”

“Billy...” Steve started, biting back laugh. “Are you jealous?”

Billy had said once, high and naked, sprawled on the bed next to Steve in the dark, that he would like to one day have a threesome. You know, if they ever found a guy – maybe a girl? – who could handle their rhythm, who caught their interest in equal amounts. Steve had laughed and never mentioned it again, because Billy was the most jealous guy he’d ever met. And maybe Billy forgot all about it the next morning, because he too never made the offer again.

But this was new. The way Billy’s eyes refused to move back upwards, how the faintest of blushes could be spotted on his cheeks (he would probably fight and say it was just his tan).

Somehow, this guy had done what no one else had been able to. And he hadn’t even had to open his mouth. He could turn up to be an asshole. Still, Steve _knew_ Billy was thinking what he was thinking.

“ _No_ ,” he lied, awfully at that, crossing his arms.

Steve wanted to _kiss_ him. “You’re adorable, you know?” He said instead, chewing on his bottom lip.

Billy looked up at him, smiled coyly, batted his long lashes in Steve’s direction. “You love it.”

“I do,” Steve said without missing a beat. Nodded. Had to remind himself that they were at his workplace and he couldn’t grab Billy by the collar, like he wanted, press him against the counter and kiss him until they were both breathless and hard.

With the change in gear, though – Billy becoming less bothered by his own jealousy and more the playful, flirty asshole he always was –, Steve felt more comfortable to step closer to him. Take a quick glance around the shop to make sure no one was watching. Speak lowly, close to his ear, where only Billy could hear, “But if you’re still up for that threesome, something tells me this guy would want in.”

The way Billy’s breath caught at that was something Steve appreciated. The two of them turned to look in the man’s direction and once again caught him staring. He blushed, dark enough that they could see from where they stood, and Billy, the _asshole_ , winked and smiled, tip of his tongue showing between his teeth.

“Hey!” Steve turned his head around when he heard Gabi. “Little help, maybe? Birthday girl shouldn’t be working alone.”

“Sorry, darling,” he smiled. “I’ll get those tables.”

As she stepped away from them, blissfully unaware of their little exchange, Steve turned to Billy one last time. “Think about it,” he said before tapping his shoulder and walking off, tray under his arm.

 

Billy did think about it. But shortly after their conversation was over, he had to leave for work, and so they didn’t talk about it the rest of the day.

Steve kept his discretion towards the guy, though after what happened, their intentions were probably very obvious. Still all he did was happily chime _hope to see you again!_ after handing his change, to which the man nodded shyly and walked off, almost running into the door on his way out.

Later, as the couple sat on their couch sharing Chinese food, Steve’s legs draped over Billy’s lap, he suddenly grabbed the remote and muted the TV. Then, stared at Steve’s confused face for a moment before swallowing his mouthful of ramen, and:

“So you think he’s into us?” He said and Steve could see in the dangerous glint of his eyes that he had something plotted in his mind.

He swallowed, took a sip of Coke before responding. “Like, he was checking you out, too.”

“And, like, you think we could convince him? To… Fuck us?” He licked his lips, greasy with sauce, and Steve breathed.

“I don’t know, Billy, maybe?” He shrugged, “I don’t know a thing about him. But like, yeah, we’re hot and he’s obviously interested. Would you say no to us?”

“ _Hell_ no,” he shook his head.

There was a pause and Steve could _hear_ the engines in Billy’s brain working. But he waited patiently, focusing on his ramen while his boyfriend worked the courage to propose a fucking threesome.

“So, like.” He started. Stopped.

Steve looked up at him. “Yes, love?”

“Do we just. Ask?” He found Steve’s eyes and Steve felt his insides warming up.

He rolled his eyes.  “No, you shithead, I can’t just approach a customer and ask him if he wants to fuck me and my boyfriend.”

“Right, but I don’t work with you guys, right, so I can,” Billy pointed out, eyebrow raising.

And that. That right there was a challenge, if Steve knew him – and he _did_.

Steve pulled his legs back, crossed them and straightened himself. Sat facing Billy. _Staring_.

Steve had never been known to turn down from a challenge. Neither did Billy. It was one of the things that made them what they were back in school – _nemesis_. The smallest of taunts thrown in each other’s direction would have the other’s temper rising and the certainty of a fight.

They still hadn’t outgrown their tempers, but they rarely fought nowadays. Their challenges were limited to the most trivial situations, like who could make it up the stairs first or who could eat the most chicken nuggets without throwing up.

It was the _tone_ in Billy’s almost too satiny voice that let Steve know that somehow he was making a challenge out of convincing a complete stranger to go to bed with them.

And he was game.

“You could,” he conceded.

“I could,” Billy echoed.

“But, I mean, he _did_ check me out first. I think I would have better luck,” Steve shrugged, almost nonchalantly. He knew Billy would catch the heat behind it.

“You know Gabi would be upset, though,” he pointed out. “Plus… Who are we kidding, Stevie? I mean, look at me. Dude couldn’t say no to me if he practiced for a _week_.”

Steve squinted at him. Billy was smiling, lopsided as his head rested on the back of the couch, tongue poking out. Having more fun at their little banter than should be allowed.

“Fine,” he said, then, after a while. “If I can approach him without getting in trouble, I get to fuck him.”

Billy _grinned_ , all teeth, Cheshire. He pushed himself up and closer to Steve, inches away from his face, and whispered, “Fine. And if _I_ bring him home, I fuck him.”

“ _Deal_ ”, Steve said through gritted teeth, only then realizing how much his temper had actually flared up.

“ _Deal_ ,” Billy mimicked, holding his gaze.

Steve blinked first, after half a minute, and the next thing he knew Billy’s lips were on his.

 

It’s no wonder he was a little giddy when Billy drove him to work the next morning. It’s no wonder Billy stayed a little longer than he should, which meant he was probably late for work, and that they barely talked while he was in the shop. It’s no wonder they both looked a little expectantly at both corners of the street when Billy finally decided to head to work.

But there was no sign of Dark-Haired Kurt Cobain, as Billy had started calling the guy. So he left and Steve went back inside.

“You guys alright?” Gabi asked, glancing quickly at him while wiping the counter, when Steve settled next to her.

“What?” He frowned, then realized she was probably asking about Billy, “I mean, why the question?

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You both seemed a little distant.”

“Oh, we…” Steve didn’t know what to say, he could never come up with lies on the spot like that. But he also couldn’t tell her the truth – that they were both just too eager to run into that guy again, and at the same time Steve was terrified that it meant Billy was finally getting tired of him.

“You don’t have to tell me, though,” she said after a fraction of a minute, anchoring Steve back into reality and before he could come up with something to say, anything at all. “Just making sure.”

He cleared his throat, started counting the money in the cashier to keep his face hidden, “Yeah, no, we’re fine. Just… A rough morning.”

 

Dark-Haired Kurt Cobain showed up sometime during Steve’s lunch hour. He’d been in the back room, shamefully eating a Subway – there was a shop just two blocks over that Gabi always complained about, that they stole their clients with their big franchise sign, but Steve liked the fucking sandwiches.

When he was done and finally returned to the front to switch places with her, the guy was already sitting in his customary corner table, sipping black coffee and going through photo negatives.

A wave of cold broke in his stomach, but Steve hadn’t been called The King back in school for no reason.  Straightening his apron and fluffing up his hair, he picked up the coffee pot and waved to a girl on another table that he would take her order next, then slowly made his way over to the guy’s table.

“Hey,” Steve said, giving one of his quiet smiles while refilling his mug. “You need anything else?”

The guy looked up through the curtain of his dark hair, surprised by Steve’s sudden appearance and immediately blushing. Steve held his breath when their eyes met, but continued to smile.

“Uh… No, I’m–I’m good. Thanks.” He spoke in a low tone, tripping over his words, _clearly_ unaccustomed to that kind of attention.

Steve nodded, eyes flitting over to that journal, which was open at the table, revealing a couple Polaroids of models at the beach. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? Those are gorgeous, by the way.”

When Kurt looked between him and the pictures, Steve winked discreetly at him and moved away.

He stayed longer that afternoon than he’d ever before, and whenever Steve approached his table for a refill or to bring some new order, they talked a little more. First the weather, then the photographs, then music when The Cure came on the radio.

He’d wanted to write his number down on Kurt’s receipt, but Gabi had been standing _right there_ , so instead, when he brought his change over, Steve said:

“I’m Steve, by the way. Probably guessed it already, but, you know.” And he smiled and shrugged, aiming for nonchalant, probably scoring.

“Oh, I’m–I’m Jonathan,” he smiled, a little more confident now, pushing his hair back with a free hand.

“Well, I see you like our coffee, so I do hope you see you again, Jonathan.”

Jonathan smirked, looked down at the receipt in his hands, then back up at Steve and held his gaze as he murmured, “Yeah, very good… _Coffee_.”

 

The first thing Billy said when Steve sat next to him in the Camaro was:

“So, did he show up?” With the kind of anxiety of someone who was both eager and hesitant to hear the answer.

Steve had to bite back a chuckle, thinking he probably spent the whole day wondering what was going on in the shop, if Steve had already beat him just the day after. He wet his lips and waited until he was finished buckling up, just out of spite, “Yeah.”

There was a pause while Billy drove and Steve played his little innocent game, until Billy couldn’t wait anymore, looked over at him quickly then back at the road. “Just ‘yeah’? You didn’t talk to him?”

“Well, I talked to him, alright,” he shrugged, like it meant nothing. “His name’s Jonathan. He’s a photographer.”

“Is he, now.” Billy’s voice sounded more strained and Steve hummed. “And Gabi didn’t notice you two little old ladies catching up with the weekend gossip?”

“We didn’t talk all that much, Billy.” He rolled his eyes, “It’s just a name.”

“Right.” And he said nothing more for the rest of the ride home.

 

The day after that was Steve’s day-off. He figured he could still visit the shop, if only for the coffee or to try and see Jonathan. But he woke with a sore throat that developed into fever, and he eventually decided it would be best to stay home to make sure he felt better the next morning.

So, finally, Billy had a chance to talk to the guy himself. After all, he wasn’t about to lose their little game.

(And if he deep down thought this was more about the challenge than really getting _Jonathan_ in their bed, he wouldn’t admit it.)

His boss was a very understanding guy, even if Billy had to refer to Steve as his girlfriend whenever they got in the subject. Still, he was careful when he asked if he could have, say, an extra hour at lunch to go check on his _girlfriend_ , who was back home down with a cold. And even if he laughed and sarcastically called Billy a _dreamboat_ , he also gave him the whole afternoon off, because they had little work, anyway.

At that point, of course he knew the rest of the staff on first-name basis, but it still felt a little weird being in the shop when Steve wasn’t around. Gabi was in the cashier and these two other girls were tending tables, and when Billy stepped in, greasy coveralls, heavy boots and all, he heard the two of them sigh.

He would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good. He enjoyed the attention, but then again, who didn’t?

“Hey, Gabi.” Billy grinned as he leaned onto the counter, ignoring, for the time being, the rest of the customers.

She looked up from the book on her lap, looked over at the waitresses, then back at him, the corners of her mouth twitching up in amusement. “Ah. The Billy Hargrove effect.”

He chuckled, winking at one of the waitresses, Jenna, when she came around to pick up someone’s order, and watching her blush.

“How’s Steve?” Gabi asked, eyes once again trained on her book, round glasses perched high up on her nose.

Studying to become a nurse was hard, especially when she had to manage the shop all by herself. Billy and Steve both admired her greatly for not giving up her dream; they had said so countless times, and she always shrugged it off like it was no big deal, _I’m a woman, I have to_.

“You know, actually, not so good.” Billy had turned around now, looked around the shop at the customers. Nearly all of the tables were taken, which was great for lunch hour on a Wednesday, but there was no sign of Kurt Cobain, or Jonathan or whatever his name was. “Sore throat.”

Gabi didn’t reply immediately and when Billy looked back at her, she’d been staring at him from above the rim of her glasses, like she could read his soul or something. He frowned.

“Is that all?” She asked, slowly, like she knew _something_ was up, but couldn’t figure out what. Billy cursed Steve in his mind for being so _loud_.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He nodded, perhaps a little too vehemently. “I actually got the afternoon off, going back home to keep him company.”

“Right…” She murmured, still not convinced. “Then, forgive me if this comes off too rude, but what are you doing here?”

Billy literally choked on his own saliva before he could come up with a lie. “Well, I drove by and decided to say hello.”

Before Gabi could continue her inspection, the little bell above the front door dinged. Billy looked around so fast his neck hurt, but sure enough there was Jonathan walking in, running a hand through his hair and looking for an empty table. His eyes met Billy’s and he couldn’t help smiling at the man.

“You know what, Gabi, before I go, d’you have some of those croissants?”

 

 _Jonathan_ was sitting at that same table from when Billy first saw him. Billy had taken the one right next and he kept glancing over his shoulder every five minutes, like he kind of expected Billy to vanish, like a vision.

He could _feel_ Gabi’s eyes on him all the time. She was _very_ smart and had probably started to put two and two together, which probably meant trouble for Steve. They either had to give up their little contest or move it somewhere else.

So, and because Billy was a _thoughtful_ boyfriend like that, he decided to go home after about an hour of not being able to start a conversation with Jonathan, who looked away every time Billy moved forward on his table to say something.

 _Screw it_. They didn’t actually need to go down with the idea of a threesome with a stranger. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it sounded. He was even willing to give up the challenge, that is, if Steve agreed to as well.

He got up, collected his dishes because he was _decent_ like that and brought it all over to the counter. Before he left he ordered green tea, _for Steve_.

One last glance in Jonathan’s direction showed him the guy scrambling to get his things together and pay for his tab. Billy frowned, stopped for half a moment with a hand on the door, until their eyes met and Jonathan smiled.

 _Oh well, if you insist_ , he thought. This guy was smarter than he initially gave him credit for. Probably realized that Gabi was watching both of them closely and noticed before how tight she was with Steve. Greedy, too, if he was aiming for Steve and Billy both at once. But that was exactly what Billy was counting on.

He lighted a cigarette as he stood outside the shop. Slowly made his way to his car. As he leaned onto the side of the Camaro, elbows resting on the roof, he saw Jonathan approach him, flushed _red_ all over his cheeks in the most adorable way.

“Can-I-borrow-a-smoke.” He shot, not really a question, and Billy tried not to laugh as he promptly offered his pack and Zippo.

They refused to look at each other for a long moment until both of them were done with their cigarettes. Crushing his on the hot pavement with the heel of his work boots, Billy turned to face the guy, a playful smile on his lips.

He could see his appeal, had seen it even from the first time. Cheekbones unbelievably sharp, small yet expressive eyes. From the V-line of his shirt, Billy could make out defined pectorals. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if a scrawny little guy like him would be able to handle both him and Steve at once.

“So,” he started, one hand on his hip, the other in his hair. He continued to stare at Jonathan the way few people in his whole life had been able to resist: hungry, hooded eyes and biting into his bottom lip. Quickly he watched Jonathan blush again.

“So, um…” He was holding onto the strap of his messenger bag like a seatbelt, like it could protect him. Billy wanted to laugh whenever someone made him feel like a predator. “That other guy from the, um, the shop. Steve? Do you know him?”

“Do I?” Billy chuckled, he couldn’t help it. He pushed himself off and away from the car, stepped closer to him. For a split of second he thought Jonathan was going to take a step back, but he stood his ground. _Good boy_. “Steve? Yeah, sure. You could say we’re, like, highschool sweethearts.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened almost comically. He looked away from Billy, scratching the back of his head with long, slim fingers, like he thought he’d fucked up. Billy pictured those fingers around his dick and had to look away, too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, he—Talked to me the other day and I thought—”

“You got it right,” Billy smiled, licked his lips. “It’s… Sorta our thing. If you’re interested…”

Part of him thought it was a little too soon to make the move, but it was out of his mouth before he actually thought it through. He was _excited_ , both at beating Steve at their game (and again he realized it was more about winning than about getting to top this stranger) and at the addictive thrill of flirting someone new. He’d forgotten what it felt like.

Jonathan was staring at him like he was insane, unmoving, barely breathing, and all Billy could think was _this is it, I done lost the fucking bet_. “You’re kidding?” He but whispered, like Billy had said something absurd.

Billy shrugged, run a hand through his unkempt curls. “Is it such a bad idea?”

“No, I just—” He chuckled and Billy forced a laugh in sympathy. “Shit, I didn’t expect it.”

They both laughed and Billy hated him for being so cute. His smile was shy, but beautiful. The same voice in his head that thought Steve had a point about the looks of this guy also wondered _what if he’s the one who steals Steve’s heart?_

“So, think about it,” he said, fishing for his keys. Jonathan was watching his hands.

“Not a lot to think,” he shot back almost immediately; it felt like the kind of response you barely have time to consider before it’s out of your mouth. The air felt heavy and charged around them, even though there were barely any clouds out.

Until then Billy had only been vaguely interested in the guy – sure, he was good-looking and he had a charming laugh. But there were thousands of good-looking guys with charming laughs in California, not to mention the rest of the world. He wouldn’t even be the first to show interest in a threesome with him and Steve.

But the sudden electricity between them was something else, something you can never quite explain. As Jonathan’s eyes examined his face for signs of the whole thing being a lie, he felt butterflies in his stomach and heat all over. When the guys tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously, he imagined himself kissing those lips until they were swollen and pink.

“Jonathan, isn’t it? I’m Billy.” He paused and Jonathan nodded. “Listen, Steve wasn’t feeling so good this morning… You wanna come over and help cheer him up?”

 

Steve hated being sick. Hated because it made him need help and he’d learned from a young age to take care of himself, never expect his mom to bring him soup and tea.

He’d spent the morning between mint tablets and lemon and honey tea. Luckily it seemed to be simple enough that by noon he already felt better. By the time he heard the Camaro parking behind their building his throat barely itched at all. Still, he was chopping up vegetables for a soup when the door opened and two sets of footsteps approached the kitchen.

“Steve?” Billy’s voice sounded overexcited, like a kid on Christmas morning. “We’ve got visits.”

Steve frowned to himself, wondering who it could be at 4:45pm on a Wednesday. He looked down at his clothes: sweatpants and socks because he was _still_ full-on fighting a possible cold, and hoped to God it was someone like Gabi or Chuck from the autoshop, whom were intimate friends and wouldn’t be offended by his weird attire.

Until Billy walked into view, followed closely by Jonathan.

Steve’s first reaction was to curse angrily at both losing the bet _and_ looking so stupid and sick when Billy brought home this guy they were trying to seduce.

Putting the knife down and grabbing the dish towel that he always carried on his shoulder when he was cooking, he turned to Billy. “You’re home early.”

Billy stepped into the kitchen, kissed him softly on the lips, tasting of chocolate and nicotine and coffee. “Boss let me out early. To come check on you.”

“And you forgot it was my day off?” He teased, raising a brow as Billy handed him a plastic cup with the coffee shop logo.

Billy laughed and Steve stepped around him. Jonathan looked completely out of place, standing by the counter with his messenger bag still secured on his shoulder.

“I figure Billy talked to you?” Steve asked, and as he stood in front of him, barely one foot keeping them apart, he felt more drawn to Jonathan than he’d ever before. Knowing Billy wouldn’t lie to this guy just to win a bet, knowing that he had somewhat agreed to being in their apartment and whatever would ensue later on.

Jonathan gave a small smile, just the right corner of his mouth lifting up, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, finally looking into Steve’s eyes.

He shuddered when their eyes met; there was a kind of _want_ in Jonathan’s eyes that hadn’t been so explicit before. Billy’s arms swung around his waist and his chin rested on Steve’s shoulder, and it felt like time stopped as the three of them stared at each other.

Steve had never been one to actually desire other people when he was in a relationship. But something about Jonathan had been different from day one. He’d forced himself to let go of the thought, didn’t want to feel like a cheater. This didn’t feel wrong.

“So, is this, like, a thing you guys do?” Jonathan asked tentatively.

Steve shook his head, _no_. “Not until you,” Billy added.

“You guys barely know me.” He laughed, obviously nervous. None of them knew exactly what to do and all three kept stalling, putting off the inevitable.

“We have time,” Steve shrugged. He pushed Billy off of him and returned to his position by the counter. “We’re having soup, if you wanna stay for dinner.”


	2. II

Soup was forgotten. Billy had produced beer from their fridge while Steve attempted to finish chopping vegetables without cutting off a finger because he was literally _shaking_ with excitement, and before he knew it, the stove had been put off and the three of them were sitting on the living room rug, laughing like old friends.

It was funny to watch Billy and Jonathan fight about music; Billy would scrunch his nose and say the stuff Jonathan liked was so boring it gave him the complete opposite of a boner. Jonathan would then say he liked actual music instead of _noise_ , to which Steve had to agree, but not aloud.

Oddly enough, despite the fact that they didn’t actually _know_ this guy, they got along really well. Conversation kept flowing and soon enough they had shared their stories, they’d found out that Jonathan studied Photography at UCLA, that he’d too left the cold of his hometown in favor of California and fallen in love.

Within a few hours, they weren’t so much strangers anymore. Over pizza and more beer than should be allowed on a Wednesday night, Jonathan heard the story of how Steve and Billy got together, told them about his relationship with the girl he thought was the love of his life until they both turned out gay. The story was familiar and made it all feel less weird.

More than just the physical attraction, Jonathan _clicked_ with the two of them in a different way, a way none of their closest friends did.

When there was no beer left and Steve’s head had been resting on Billy’s lap for a good hour and they just kept stupid laughing to the point where no one really remembered _what_ was so funny anyway, Steve’s hand found Jonathan’s knee and he drew circles with his index finger as the laughter died. His jeans were worn, old; he could feel the sharpness of his bones.

 “This okay?” Steve asked in a soft murmur as his hand circled upwards, slowly, towards his thigh. His eyes were trained on Jonathan’s face for any sign of hesitance, but he only nodded, wet his lips, looked between Steve and Billy like he still expected them to kick him out.

Steve pushed himself off of Billy’s lap, inched closed to Jonathan on the rug. Fingers digging into his thigh, and Jonathan’s breath was shaky as his lips parted. “This still okay?” He asked again as he leaned into his space, less than an inch between them. Jonathan nodded again and pressed his lips to Steve’s as if to prove the point.

They kissed and kissed, and Steve barely registered the moment when Jonathan tugged him closer until he climbed onto his lap. His fingers had curled into Jonathan’s hair and he licked into his mouth, hot and pepperoni spicy and _addictive_. He hadn’t kissed anyone other than Billy in years; it was both weird and exciting.

“Shit,” he hissed when they broke for air, quickly becoming aware that he was already hard.

There was no time to catch their breath; Billy was suddenly pressing closer, chest glued to Steve’s back and a hand on Jonathan’s nape, pulling him into a bruising kiss.

Steve still remembered the first time he and Billy kissed, how he knew he’d been ruined because the way he kissed could only be described as sinful. The small, needy sounds Jonathan produced only proved he was on the same boat.

Steve let his head rest back onto Billy’s shoulder. He nearly jumped when Billy’s free hand snaked around his waist, slipping into his sweatpants and taking hold of him. The familiarity of his touch had Steve instinctively bucking into it, hips rolling and pressing harder into Jonathan’s crotch. The man moaned loudly, breaking the kiss.

He whimpered something of a curse, head falling forward into Steve’s collarbones. Billy was mouthing at Steve’s neck and he could feel, where he pressed into his back, he was just as hard as himself and Jonathan.

“You can still—leave,” Steve said as both of Jonathan’s hands clawed into his thighs. Despite his words, he continued to roll his hips, earnestly now that Jonathan’s breathing was getting more labored. “But, oh, my god, please stay.”

In response, Jonathan stiffened, a choked-off moan dying in his throat as he came. Steve slowed down his hips to let him catch his breath, though Billy’s fingers continued to caress his dick.

“I’m gonna need to borrow some pants,” Jonathan said a minute later, flushed and smiling sheepishly.

“Why don’t we worry about that later?” Billy asked darkly as he moved to the side, letting Steve climb off Jonathan’s lap.

Dazed from his orgasm, Jonathan watched, from where he was resting back on the couch, the couple with curiosity in his tired eyes as they moved about. Steve got to his feet and disappeared into the hallway and when he turned back in Billy’s direction, he found him shrugging out of his shirt and jeans.

“Where did he go?” He asked absently, eyes travelling down Billy’s body. Naked, hard and proud, like they weren’t just sitting in the living room, in front of a window, where anyone across the street could see.

“You’ll see,” Billy replied, smirking as he followed Jonathan’s hungry eyes. He knelt back down on the rug next to Jonathan, let his hands immediately go to his belt to get rid of his jeans.

“Fuck, Billy,” he whispered, helping kick off his jeans, but only so he could bat Billy’s hands away and instead, let his go to Billy’s golden skin. “You’re so hot. Like a fucking god.”

His fingertips traced every line and every curve of his torso, his thighs, his shoulders. Like he wanted to read his body. Finally, he took Billy’s dick into his hands, red and glistening with precum, and looked up at those impossibly blue eyes. “You guys clean?”

Billy nodded first, like he couldn’t find words. He wet his lips, the clever smirk wiped from his face in favor of lust and desire. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” was only a murmur before Jonathan took him into his mouth.

He was no virgin, but he could only barely fit Billy in his mouth. Billy’s hips snapped and he touched Jonathan’s face gently, letting out a grunt, like he meant to apologize. Even as his eyes watered, Jonathan swallowed around him, hummed and looked up at his face, batting his lashes. Billy smirked, thumbed at the corners of his mouth where his lips stretched around him.

Steve’s voice from the hallway broke the spell, “Oh shit.” His footsteps came to a halt. “You fuckers couldn’t wait for me? _Shit_ , this is hot. What the fuck.”

Jonathan had to pull back and laugh. Steve was standing right out of the hallway, one hand grabbing at the front of his pants like he couldn’t decide whether he joined them or just got off by watching. In his other hand he carried lube and condoms.

“Stop complaining and come here,” Billy said, hands warm on Jonathan’s face as he pulled him up into a kiss, which he happily accepted.

While Billy kissed the notions of time and space out of him, the lights were turned off, in favor of a lamp beside the couch. He felt Steve join them on the rug and heard the rustle of fabric as he undressed. He pulled back, eager to see as much of him as he could.

“Hi,” Steve smirked, sitting a lot closer than he’d imagined, and pressed his mouth into his. “Why don’t we get rid of this…” His hands slipped under Jonathan’s t-shirt and slid up, up, up until he was playing with his nipples and Billy was the one tugging the shirt off him instead. “And why don’t we lay you down so we can take care of you. What do you think?”

The question was obviously rhetorical, but even if he did expect an answer, Jonathan would have to disappoint, because he was in no condition to respond. His mind was buzzing with so much attention and he could barely believe that was happening.

He let himself be handled willingly, as Steve once again nestled himself into Jonathan’s lap. Their now unclothed erections pressed together when Steve pushed him back into the rug until he was lying on his back and he started rocking into Jonathan again, hands planted firmly on the floor on either sides of his head and sighing into his mouth.

He was suddenly aware of how long Steve’s legs were; his knees had been tight around his waist, but now they spread so far apart as he left no space between their crotches. Vaguely, he thought of asking them both to pose for him. But the thought didn’t linger; he buried one of his hands into Steve’s hair and wrapped the other around their erections, helping with the almost dry friction of his thrusts.

It was so much already, what with the lighting and Steve’s hair falling over his eyes as he rocked and moaned and nipped at Jonathan’s bottom lip, that he nearly came all over again when a pair of hands spread his asscheeks apart and a warm tongue licked a long stripe over his hole.

He yelped in surprise and Steve cooed at him, “Relax, baby. Is this alright? We can—If you don’t like it, we can—”

“No,” he quickly responded, searching with one foot for Billy, who had moved away from his body. “I just, you caught me by surprise. It’s fine, it’s—more than fine.”

He felt Billy’s warm breath on his ass again and shuddered, and Steve was smiling down at him and everything was _perfect_.

“Help me out, baby,” Billy whispered into Steve’s ear, dark and a whole octave lower, and _sexy_. One of his arms wound around Steve’s waist and his knees pushed up as Billy eased a pillow under Jonathan’s hips before returning to his hole.

Billy was obviously _skilled_ , with the way he pushed his tongue in and out, and then licked over and then in again. He only registered there was music somewhere, maybe another room, when he realized Steve was grinding into him in time with the sensual beat of the song. They kissed and it was messy and breathy and Steve was beautiful.

When he felt Billy pull away this time he prepared for whatever was coming, and sure enough in less than a minute he felt the slicked tips of two fingers slowly breaching him. Steve stopped moving, let him take it in, held his face and told him how good he was for taking it so well. When Billy was able to build a steady rhythm, thrusting his fingers in and out, spreading them experimentally, Steve climbed off of his lap.

His mouth was back before Jonathan mustered the will to complain. Steve kissed down his neck, nipping at his collarbones, sucking down his pecks. He deliberately spent a good amount of time sucking and licking over Jonathan’s nipples, until they were stiff and feeling raw. He then proceeded downwards, letting the tip of his tongue follow his happy trail, into his bellybutton and down again.

At that point Billy was three fingers in. His free hand curled into Steve’s hair and Jonathan watched him guide Steve’s work, smirking and thrusting his fingers in time.

Jonathan couldn’t _speak_. Breathing was hard enough. It didn’t help when Billy pulled his fingers away, made a show of lubbing himself while Steve blew Jonathan like his life depended on it, one hand curled at the base of his cock, the other one lazily tugging at his own erection. When Billy pushed into him, Jonathan thought he might cease to exist, turn back to fucking _stardust_ , with how good he felt.

Obviously, he didn’t last too long. Billy quickly found the angle that hit _home_ and a couple thrusts later, Jonathan’s vision was white, he was spilling down Steve’s throat and moaning incoherently into the crook of his arm.

He came to when he felt both of them pull out of him. Still in their same positions, Steve had taken to jerking Billy’s cock at the same time as he jerked himself. He kept whispering encouragements into Billy’s thigh and a minute later they came, one after the other.

 

Sunlight woke him up the next morning. He first became aware of the fact that the sun didn’t hit his window in the morning. Then he realized he was still tangled with two other bodies.

Sweaty and sticky from last night’s mess, it took Jonathan a while to start moving. When he did, the other two stretched awake as well. They kissed each other softly in the mouth before moving upwards until they could pull Jonathan into the kiss.

Everything taken into consideration, he wondered if he hadn’t maybe died and gone to Heaven.

“Pizza for breakfast?” Billy asked, his chin propped on Jonathan’s chest, and Steve laughed.

“Shower first.” He sat up, fingers and eyes shamelessly raking down Jonathan’s body. “Feel free to join.”

Billy smirked, watching him walk away. He then looked back at Jonathan, dipped in to kiss along his sternum, then pulled him up to his feet and hauled him to their bathroom. Steve was already in there, showering with door open like a free show.

He swallowed hard watching the water slide down his body, his long, muscular legs, the curve of his ass. Glancing back at Billy, he couldn’t help feeling like he was watching something forbidden, desiring for something that wasn’t his.

Maybe reading it into his face, Billy smiled and tugged him by the hand again, pushed him into the box before stepping in behind him. His arms were tight around Jonathan’s waist and his lower body pressed flushed against his backside. The space was too tight for three adult men and Steve smirked down at him when they crowded in.

“You know, I could get used to this,” he pondered. Billy cackled and Jonathan couldn’t hold back the smile as he thought _me too_.

 

“… So we made a bet to see who could seduce you first. The winner got to top you.”

“Are you guys honestly saying this was a _game_?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, but no. Like. We _like_ you.”

“… That’s _so_ reassuring…”

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooooooo, I'm back at my Harringryers bullshit~  
> XDDD jk, [@shippinggirl2424](http://shippinggirl2424.tumblr.com/) back on Tumblr sent me this request AGESSSS ago, but because I'd been so busy with school and wanted to make something really good with this prompt, I only got to it now. Again, I do feel like they maybe wanted something more on the side of fluffy, but my sick, twisted brain couldn't take it elsewhere. So I split it into two parts in case someone was uncomfortable with smut.  
> Title from Blondie's One Way Or Another, which is creepy as fuck of a song, but it fit so well.  
> Also, side note, I have no idea if UCLA offers Photography, or if it did at all in the 90's, but let's just shrug past that, pretty please? XD  
> Hope yall enjoy! Hit me up on Tumblr @wickedlittleoz as well!  
> love!!


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